Sometimes revenge is best served hot. Their incredible reaction to the hair-raising win – the shirt-stripping, the screaming, the dig at Shane Warne, a punch at their cricketing board – showed the uber-cool men cared, hurt and were in mood for comeuppance. The men who come from different countries, the men who are Ronins of cricket, the men who play T20 cricket around the world and also turn up for West Indies, the men who are poster boys of cool, were more unified than they have ever been in the recent years. Adversity brings up strange reactions. Occasionally, it brings up the sweet taste of triumph. In the early 2000s, when the best of West Indies cricket could only be seen on Youtube, Tony Cozier wrote on a West Indies tour of Australia, “it could be individual self-interest that strengthens the team ethic on this tour and beyond”. Some say that West Indies has been economically, politically and socially dislocated. That, those bricks of anti-colonialism that once held the wall of solidarity among cricketing fraternity have fallen. In this age of rootless amnesiac culture, the way forward for this team might be individual salvation.Fire in Babylon is passé. It’s fire in the individual belly that counts. The fire was burning inside them at Eden Gardens. It lit up Marlon Samuels who ended the night, with his legs still wrapped in pads up on the table at the media interaction. He was cramped for space perhaps, or he felt like he was the boss of the night. It burnt young Brathwaite, who not long ago was crying in his room, away from home, unable to face his mother who was suffering from breast cancer. It almost tore up Sammy who was once called as the Board-man, a yes man who was propped up as a captain, and who now is the rallying voice for the rebellion, or as the players see it, revolution. It inspired the physical education teacher in a school from Barrackpore Samuel Badree, a quiet man who always seems to be under control, to come up with a stirring high-class opening spell that threatened to knock out England in the first round.In a way, it was befitting that it was one of the new faces that landed the final knock-out punch for the team. In a Kolkata minute, everything changed for Carlos Brathwaite. In a Kolkata minute, he changed everything for West Indies. Until he made his debut for his country, Brathwaite was known in his circles more for being the classmate of the famous singer Rihanna. Now, he has launched himself into the hearts of Caribbean fans, and into the nightmares of Ben Stokes and the Englishmen.Brathwaite is a batmaker – he owns his own brand of cricket bats called Trident. He couldn’t have found a better way to market it than this. 19 runs in the last over which was cued up after a quiet penultimate over. There was no momentum. So what do you do? What’s the fuss? Just wind up and smoke four sixes. Caribbean style. Game over.Until then, nerves had frayed and it almost seemed that the burning desire to prove a point to the world was threatening to lead to self-destruction. Luckily, Marlon Samuels stood up to be counted. He is one of the most complex cricketers going around. “I don’t trust people anymore. It’s better to trust dogs,” he once said, and lives in a large but barely furniture house with so many dogs that one lost count. He sits quietly on a swing that hangs from a mango tree on his backyard, philosophising about life, and plotting his own moves.Before the second innings that started in the last T20 world cup where he had again played the matchwining knock, he was known for three things: The ban, the handshake with Chris Gayle ( he ran all the way from the crease after a winning hit to shake hands in the stands with Gayle who was fighting the board and out of team) and talent that had turned against itself.Last night, he was the saviour. He must have dreamt about it under that Mango tree. And what a knock under pressure it was. There is a lightness of touch about him that sets him apart. He doesn’t drive hard; he caresses. He doesn’t cut; he laces it. He doesn’t rush between wickets; he glides. He doesn’t have an aggressive back-lift or bat speed; he seems to lift it gently and bring it down even more so.There were no nervous mannerisms; he stood almost still between deliveries. Nor did he walk about, or furiously tap the pitch; he just stood there at the crease holding his bat, waiting for the bowler to reach the top of his run-up. Or he stood at the non-strikers end and watched his team-mates fall, one by one.He rarely showed much emotion. Until that final over and after the game of course. When young Brathwaite heaved away, just stood there at the crease, Samuels was running circles around him. He was shouting, he was punching the gloves of Brathwaite, he was hugging. And by the third six, Brathwaite too was moved. The Jail break had happened and he turned to the dressing room and thumped his chest. Brathwaite went berserk, Samuels went crazy. The entire team joined in the delirium. Emotions were flowing. It was befitting that Sourav Ganguly was there at the ground when the shirt-stripping happened. Dada would have understood. It was one hell of a night at the Eden. The Ronins had become the masters of their own destiny.